


Withdrawn

by Cascaper



Series: Keeping Composure [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Gen, Reader-Insert, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, ah the infamous post-Bloody Banquet slash Pre-Heavensward period, pre-relationship biz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 20:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16839949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cascaper/pseuds/Cascaper
Summary: In which the Warrior just wants one thing to go right: namely, Alphinaud's return to his old self.Written as part of the FFxivWrite2018 Challenge.





	Withdrawn

He looks so small.

Elbows braced upon his knees, head bowed, Alphinaud sits utterly still in his seat. Let the cart sway how it might, let the road be smooth or rough- to the Warrior’s eye, her friend may as well be a statue. 

This night has been foul in more ways than one. The dust storm that sprang up as they rode off into the dark is just the latest addition to the list, although [Name] supposes it might be useful to slow their pursuers. Still, now the air is choked with dirt on top of the chill, and getting colder all the time. 

She dares not dwell on the banquet, on the betrayal, on the clatter of a golden goblet against stone floor. Dares not listen to the cry of anguish in the back of her mind, wailing for each friend who stayed to ensure her escape. Now more than ever she is not allowed to break, and so she focuses on the sole Scion left by her side.

Would he flinch, if she reached out a hand? If she offered the meager shelter of her arm against the rapidly dropping temperature? 

She cannot muster the movement. She sits straight-backed. The cart rattles on. 

* * *

They do not have long to wait, upon arriving at Black Brush Station. Scarcely has the sound of the peddler’s chocobos died away when the whirr of ceruleum engines begins: here is Cid, and their flight continues. 

Up, out, away from the dust storm. Into the clear northern air goes the _Enterprise_ , toward their last bastion of safety. From one sort of clouded sky to another.

And Alphinaud remains folded in on himself, stone-still. 

[Name] cannot tell what to do. She has never seen him like this. She almost fears to come too close, lest he shatter like so much glass. The beginnings of snowflakes are all around them, and he is not even shivering- which makes her more concerned than if he were. 

At least when they arrive at Camp Dragonhead, there is a fire. A warm hearth and a warmer welcome, just as had always been promised. As if they had not come fleeing to this snow-swept garrison under cover of night and wintry dawn, slimed with treachery and stained with shame. 

[Name] had not realized until now what a gift Haurchefant’s friendship truly is. Or perhaps this is but the first occasion she has had cause to reflect upon the matter. Someday she will show her gratitude as only a Warrior of Light can.

* * *

For weeks- weeks that seem to last years- they wait for the latest Dravanian threat to pass. Wait to hear whether they shall be granted asylum. 

Even now there is some hope: Tataru managed to escape the Rising Stones with Yugiri’s help, and to make sure Urianger remained safe in the Waking Sands. If they must lie low, they are yet together. 

But Alphinaud, day after day, threatens to break [Name]’s stoic outer facade, battered as it already is. He sits with rounded shoulders and head down, stares holes in the floor. He whispers to himself in words that no one can quite hear. He is a husk of the (sometimes overly) confident boy that she met so long ago… the one she never thought she would miss, until now.

She wants to… what. Shake him? Slap him? Squeeze him til the last of this shock is gone from his frame? Something. Anything to bring back the Alphinaud they need: the one with his head firm on his shoulders and his nose just a touch in the air, the one who carried himself through matters of state as a fine ship cuts through the waves.

The Alphinaud [ _Name_ ] needs.

(There, she said it. If only to herself.)

* * *

In the end it is the combined efforts of Tataru and Haurchefant that finally restore Alphinaud to something like his old self. He raises his head at long last. He smiles. He agrees that they must and shall redeem themselves. And the Warrior’s heart rejoices. 

In times like these, tis a comfort for even the smallest thing to turn out right.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Scions of the Seventh Dawn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16856686) by [AlphinaudFTW](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphinaudFTW/pseuds/AlphinaudFTW)




End file.
